Obligations
by That Buggy Girl
Summary: Student. Family. Wife. Which obligation is more important? Fact based shonen ai, historical AU thing
1. Scene 1

**Author's Note:** Uhh...This is a story I'm quite proud of, as it has a lot of real research involved, including traditional Japanese marriages, student-sensei relationships and general stuff about life in Feudal Japan. It's obviously an alternative reality and I'm striving for historical accuracy. Each scene, so to speak, is about a page or two long and will be posted as chapters. **It contains shonen-ai based in fact.**

For those who might not know: Naotoki Naaza (Sehkmet, for you dubbed people) and Jirougorou Rajura (Dais).

Enjoy.

* * *

The stars outside Mito, Naotoki thought absently, were exactly the same as the stars painting the sky above the castle. They shown just as bright and told the same story, no matter where one went. They were lucky; why could his lot in life not remain as unchanging as those of the stars?

It was late at night; Jirou was snoring away beside him, curled on his side on the hard ground. He reached over, brushing a lock of wavy hair out of the older man's face, then gazed back up at the sky again. Though he was tired after a full day's travel, Naotoki found it impossible to sleep.

Tomorrow they would arrive in Mito, the place where Jirou had been born and raised. The comfortable routine they had fallen into was about to be disrupted forever, all because of that damnable letter.

The previous fall, Jirou had assigned castle guard to the daimyo as a lower-ranking soldier and they had lived comfortably in the castle while Jirou fulfilled his duties and trained Naotoki in the way of the samurai. After months and months, a truce had been declared between Satake-sama and his enemies and a tentative peace fell over the land.

It was during this time –a mere fortnight ago- that Jirou had received the letter from his father stating it was time for him to fulfill his family obligations and marry his betrothed. The letter had been delivered to their quarters one night and handed to Jirou, who was polishing his katana. Naotoki had crept over, peering over his shoulder and trying to make out the few words he could as Jirou read it through several times.

"Naotoki," He finally said after a long, dreadful period of silence, "Do you understand what this means?"

Naotoki bit his lip, uncertain. "I cannot read it all, sensei…" He faltered, knowing this news was no good news.

"My father," Jirou glanced back down at the parchment in his hand, expression evening out to something Naotoki could not describe, "Wishes me to come home to be married." He didn't look up, simply kept his head down, hair curtaining to hide his face.

For a moment, Naotoki had felt as if time itself had stopped.

When time resumed its slow crawl, it felt as if icy fingers were creeping through his chest, squeezing his heart and making it hard to breathe. He stared at Jirou, eyes wide, and shook his head. "No." This could not be. "No; no…Jirou, no!" Desperate; it had to be a joke. "No…Please no!" A familiar prickling feeling stung at the back of his eyes and he tried to choke back the tears that were already forming.

"Come here." Jirou set aside the letter and held out a hand to his younger friend. Naotoki burrowed against him, face buried in Jirou's shoulder, and he simply held Naotoki, stroking his hair. "I will not abandon you. This is something I must do, but you are still my student. I still want you."

"Everything will change." Naotoki's voice was muffled by the fabric of Jirou's gi, and he clung tighter, fingers digging in.

Naotoki burrowed down in his bedroll, rolling over and sulking at the memory. Although he agreed that, yes, things would change, Jirou had promised him it wouldn't be too different. Their lives would go on as normal, the woman would just be involved as well. Naotoki knew he was young and being foolish, but he wanted to believe Jirou so badly…

It wasn't fair.

He hated change.


	2. Scene 2

Jirou's family was certainly happy to see him.

Naotoki hung back as the older man was greeted with slaps on the back and polite bows and all kinds of cordial greetings. The women bowed politely and the men joked and talked with him about war and training and battles. Naotoki remained half in the shadows of the coming evening, observing everything and gauging his surroundings, waiting to be properly introduced by Jirou.

The man he assumed was Jirou's father had severe features and a crop of jet black hair, slightly wavy and pulled up in a topknot. Kuroda-san nodded at his first-born son, content to watch as he bragged to the younger men.

Naotoki felt a brief surge of jealousy that he had never been received like that, which was quickly overridden by his pride in his sensei. Every one in Mito seemed to know and respect him as a warrior, and it pleased Naotoki to be his student.

"Father." Jirou greeted the man with a courteous bow, hair sweeping over his shoulder as he dipped his head.

"Jirougorou." His father returned, dark gaze scanning up and down as if making sure his son was in one piece. He straightened up. "I would like to meet this student of yours. Is he truly a Yamanouchi?"

"He is." Jirou beckoned the younger man forward and Naotoki hurried to obey, wishing to make a good impression and hoping that Jirou's family would be able to look beyond his odd appearance and see his worth. "This, father, is my student, Yamanouchi Naotoki."

Naotoki inclined his head as he had been instructed to do. "It is an honor to meet you, Kuroda-san." Chin up, eyes forward; a warrior had dignity and pride, even in the face of his superiors. He tried to remember everything he'd been taught, but the fear that he would be shunned and banned from the household was far outweighing anything else.

Kuroda-san studied him, taking in his flawless posture and the dark, muddy colors of his clothing, the katana at his side. He wore no armor, but then, neither did Jirougorou. There was a brief interlude of peace which had allowed his son to travel home, and it was not to be wasted. The youth's hair was too short to be in a proper topknot, but judging by his appearance, he was too young to be considered a man anyway. Jirougorou's hair, he noted with a disapproving frown, had not been tied back appropriately either, and still hung in waves around his face.

The clothing, the lack of armor, the improper hairstyle…They were the least of Kuroda-san's worries. The boy was still young and there was time to rectify these small problems. No, it was the boy's appearance which caused him most concern and alarm, for the pale face peering back at him was framed by a mop of wild _green_ hair. He was an ugly thing, with a small, pointed nose, thin lips and –Kuroda-san's brows knit together- beady black eyes, smoldering away in the midst of an almost colorless face.

"Jirougorou," He looked back up sharply, glowering at his son, "You have brought home a demon."

"He is no demon." Jirou's voice was calm, even as Naotoki was consumed by panic at the thought that he could be sent away or –worse yet- killed. "He has more than proven himself worthy as a warrior and in two years has displayed no demonic behaviors."

Naotoki watched from his place at Jirou's right side as the older man looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing. "He is manipulating you, then; making you believe he is harmless until the right opportunity presents itself."

"Father…" It was hard to listen to people badmouthing Naotoki; he had been such a loyal, obedient student. He was an honorable person who worked hard and was dedicated to the art of the sword, as well as some one handy to have around in a medical emergency. "Think about it for a moment," He lowered his voice, "Naotoki is a loyal student and eager to please. Supposing he is a demon, would it not be beneficial for us to be allied with him?"

"It is a good point you make, boy." His father rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his calculating gaze once again falling on Naotoki, "We could make our enemies tremble, fearing that we would unleash a demon upon them."

Jirou suppressed the urge to roll his eyes at the ludicrous suggestion that Naotoki was capable of such destruction as he knew his father was imagining. "He will serve us, if we keep him on."

Kuroda-san nodded. "So be it. But if I see him displaying any suspicious behavior, I will not hesitate to kill him." He frowned, "There will be rules and stipulations, of course. We cannot have a demon running wild around the village."

"Yes, father." Jirou bowed again, then beckoned to Naotoki, "Come."

Naotoki followed, eager to get away from the disapproving older man. He could sense the hostility and distrust as if it had been rolling off Jirou's father in waves. It was like that almost everywhere he went; people hated him and he was well aware of this. Jirou was the only person who had ever looked at him differently and respected him.

Though his life had improved drastically since he met Jirou, Naotoki knew there would be nothing easy about living with his sensei's family. They were like every one else in the world, unable to look beyond his physical differences. "Jirou…" He began timidly, once they were alone. All of this was making him uneasy; he wished they'd never come.

"My father is ignorant." Jirou's voice was brusque, as if he was trying to keep emotion out of it. "Do not let him bother you. He does not know what he is talking about."

"I do not wish to be here if it will be an inconvenience for you." Naotoki said quietly, fiddling absently with the sleeves of his kimono. He knew Jirou's life would be much easier without him in it and felt incredibly guilty for making it so complicated. "Perhaps it would be better if I left."

"Naotoki." Jirou stared at him long and hard, seemingly searching his eyes for something, "Do not say things like that." He pulled the younger man close, protective, and Naotoki curled against him, feeling frightened in a way he couldn't explain.


	3. Scene 3

She was not ugly, Hakujou Rin. Nor was she all that pretty. Naotoki tipped his head to the side, studying her. She was dressed in a pale pink silk kimono with a sakura blossom pattern splashed across the sleeves and collar and a wide, dark green obi. Her glossy black hair was piled up on the top of her head in a bun. Her eyes were flashing amber, bright and clear. At first glance, she was pretty, but when he looked again, Naotoki realized her face was all angles, and her eyes were clear, but cold. She carried herself well and did not look as if she had done much work. Her hands were small and pretty and she smelled –Naotoki sniffed the air- vaguely of plums.

Though she greeted every one politely, bowing and extending a dainty had in greeting, Naotoki could sense that she was not all she appeared.

He hated her the second he laid eyes on her.

She was to be Jirou's wife. His sensei had explained it as they traveled, saying their parents had arranged it when they were very young. They had not seen each other since they were small children, but it was tradition. They were to be married, whether they liked each other or not. He needed to carry on the family name and have children and she needed a man to protect and provide for her. Marrying Rin would solidify an alliance between their families, thus keeping them from warring against one another. He would father children and carry out his familial obligations. Every one would come out on top.

Every one but Naotoki.

He had been fretting over the idea since Jirou had told him; unhappy at the thought of being cast aside by the one person who meant the most to him. No matter how much Jirou reassured him, he knew he would no longer retain all of the older man's attention. They would be nowhere near as close, especially when there were children to look after and responsibilities as the head of the family.

"Jirougorou-san." Her voice snapped Naotoki back to attention and he watched as she extended a small hand towards Jirou and placed it on his arm. He looked down at her, expression unreadable, and she smiled coyly.

It made Naotoki feel a little sick.

"You look well, Rin-san." Jirou murmured noncommittally, blinking and looking bored. He wasn't at all interested in his bride-to-be; she was little more than a stranger, after all. If it weren't for the fact that he was obligated to produce a son, he would have no need for her. She was attractive, but less so than Naotoki, who was unique and exotic. She was well-spoken, but he doubted they would have anything to talk about. He had absolutely no need or desire to have her; Naotoki was more than enough.

"I thank you, Jirougorou-san." She intoned, lowering her head and looking at him through her lashes, and Naotoki hated her even more.

He turned, gaze falling on his student. "Naotoki." He beckoned, the movement of his fingers enough to draw the younger man closer, even though Naotoki had no desire to meet the wench.

"What," Rin looked Naotoki up and down, turning up her nose and looking offended, "Is _that_?" She frowned at him, brows drawing together, her disapproval apparent, and Naotoki frowned right back.

"Naotoki is my student." Jirou said calmly, "I have been training him for two years." He scowled, leaning in closer so that their faces were mere inches apart. "And I would appreciate it if you did not refer to him as an object, woman, for he is my right hand and he will be respected. Do you understand?"

She looked up, taking in his steely blue eyes and the serious expression on his face, then looked back at the pale, spindly man at his side. Naotoki was peering right back at her, expression drawn, fingers absently toying with the hilt of his sword, and she shuddered, repulsed at the thought that she would be sharing living space with a demon.

"I understand." Her voice was tight, as if it were just managing to escape through her delicate throat. Naotoki watched her, watching the slide of her muscles as she swallowed, and startled himself by imagining how easy it would be to wrap his thin fingers around her neck and squeeze.


	4. Scene 4

**Notes:** Hi. I dunno if any one is still reading this stuff, but I'd like to start posting it again more regularly. I have a whole bunch of it just sitting on my harddrive. Hope you'll take the time to read and review. Thanks!

-

He was not allowed to participate in any of the festivities.

Kuroda-san made a big thing out of his eldest son's marriage, because Kuroda-san, Naotoki had realized, liked to make a big thing out of everything. Having met the older man, Jirou's past arrogance and self-importance were suddenly crystal clear and Naotoki didn't wonder any more why his sensei had been so egotistical when they met. Jirou, however, had calmed down as he aged and matured. His father was still the same as he probably always had been and Naotoki wondered how he had lived so long with these delusions of importance.

Because it was such an important moment for the family and everything was supposed to be just so, Naotoki had been excluded from the ceremony and the feast. Kuroda-san had flat out told Jirou that his student was not to be present, lest Rin-san's family decide against the marriage at the sight of an unholy demon in the house. What kind of family would they look like, after all, if the Hakujou family believed they were allied with demons?

Naotoki did not argue, as he had no desire to be there. The thought of Jirou marrying that shrew made his heart clench; he wanted no part in "wishing the couple well."

It wasn't fair. Rin didn't deserve Jirou. She wouldn't take care of him the way Naotoki did. She could not tend to his battle wounds properly or know which herbs to combine when he was feeling ill. She did not know how to work the wooden comb through his tangled curls without pulling. She did not know how to pack his things for travel, how he liked his bed made up or how to properly launder his clothes. Naotoki knew all of those things, and more. He had learned over the past two years and learned well.

Perhaps she would learn in time as well, but Rin did not seem all that interested in doing things for Jirou.

Naotoki sat on the porch, sulking and watching the fireflies as Jirou and Rin's families had a celebratory dinner. He had been in the same spot all day, alternating between staring off into the vast expanse of nature and sprawled, looking up at the ceiling. He hated being cast aside like this; brushed off as inhuman and frightening, when all he wished for was to be acknowledged as a decent person. Jirou had treated him well, but it was fast becoming apparent that he was to be forgotten in the midst of his sensei's new life.

He wasn't afraid of Jirou's father, per se, but he had experienced enough hell to know that the authority of others was not something to be taken lightly. Jirou's father could put him out of the house, if he so desired. He could _kill_ him. It was best to take it all quietly and hope that Jirou would come around someday.

Fireflies flickered through the descending darkness, dancing and swirling through the air. Naotoki watched lazily as they flitted around, wishing absently that he could become one, with a short lifespan and nothing to do but live briefly and die. It would be so much better than the hell of a long life.

He knew he had to stay out of sight, but he couldn't help peering around the corner, watching the arrival of Rin's family, all so much like her. So much like Jirou's family. They were pretending to be something they were not, the lot of them; drawing the day out with more flare and fanfare than Naotoki had ever seen in his life, even in his time at the castle.

Naotoki knew it was all over with the toast, for that was when the bride and groom drank from each other's cups and the elder presiding over the affair would give his blessing.

A congratulatory cheer from Jirougorou's brothers drifted across the twilight and Naotoki knew it was the beginning of the end.


End file.
